


sunlit afternoons

by sweetwatersong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, just unrepentent fluff and honesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: Their transition to being lovers happens like this: on a casual Sunday afternoon, with laughter, with a purposeful decision.





	sunlit afternoons

When the film's climatic car chase starts Natasha is watching not the screen but her partner, sprawled as he is on the opposite couch with one arm slung under his head. He's waving his free hand in helpless disgust at the inaccuracies of the fight scenes, oblivous to her scrutiny, and muttering about butchering physics under his breath. This is Clint’s other love, she knows; never look at his square face and blunt expression and think that he doesn’t know how to trace the curve of a velocity vector, to calculate trajectories as sweet as you could wish for. That's why she picked this film, with all its inaccuracies and absurdities. That's why she's chosen him.

As he objects to the creativities taken with gravity, golden light streaming through the windows to drape over her shoulders and the sweep of his gestures, Natasha laughs to herself because it's true. She has chosen him.

The TV speakers blast a wave of explosions and finale music as she untucks her feet, swinging them onto the soft carpet to bear her rising weight. She knows that Clint catches the deliberately telegraphed movement, the shift of her shadow against the screen. He doesn’t react to it, though, until she comes to the edge of his couch, curls falling over one shoulder when she leans forward. Only then does he look away from the movie to study at her as his eyebrows lift, curious but at ease. 

Does he have any way of understanding how much that means to her, to not see terror in a man’s gaze when she approaches? Natasha hums to herself, a single bar of thought and acceptance of the fact that he does, that this is a gift he gives her as well. Her kills have splattered his uniform with blood, have broken and bled and died in front of his impassive gaze, and yet no flicker of reservation shadows the clarity in his eyes. Clint understands beyond most what her hands can do, her thighs and feet and knuckles. She slips one leg over his waist, drawing the other up to kneel gently and straddle him. When he stays as relaxed as if she wasn’t in a position to hurt him a dozen times over, to strike before he could respond, she knows she is in love.

She leans forward slowly, bracing herself with her free hand on his shoulder. Only when his face is centimeters away does she halt, her breath mingling with his. His gaze has slid to her lips and something is kindling in the depths of his eyes, in the warm hand that has settled at her waist – but when he looks back up at her there is still a relaxed patience that leaves her the one in charge. It is a gift and an escape and a complete openness, this letting her lead, letting her decide, letting her choose.

It is a gift, and Natasha looks down at him with a joy and relief that are mingled and indistinguishable. She is no wild creature, to be startled and driven away by sharp movements or the sight of a hunter, and if Clint proves to be this passive in his loving she will be very disappointed. For one who has had choices dictated to her, though, made and ordered and cast into iron shackles, this is a offering.

“Haven’t you ever wondered?” She breathes, watching his face through the frames of her curls.

“Of course,” Clint answers with the honesty that defines him. “But it’s your decision.”

She smiles at him, the warmth of the sunlight gentle on her back and the presence of this man solid and comforting beneath her, and kisses him because his eyes are grinning back at her.

“Then let’s see if we’re as good at this together as we are in the field,” she tells him, sitting back to pull her enveloping plaid shirt off, and he laughs under her in a way that tells her he has chosen her too.


End file.
